


Ice Queen

by DreamTillDawn



Series: Katniss Snow [2]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: 75th Hunger Games, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark Katniss Everdeen, F/M, Hunger Games-Typical Death/Violence, Implied Annie Cresta/Finnick Odair, Katniss Everdeen is Snow's granddaughter, Kinda?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-14 21:12:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7190642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamTillDawn/pseuds/DreamTillDawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The districts are rebelling. Her grandfather won't stop listening to Heavensbee over her. Katniss Snow's world is falling apart around her while she struggles to pick a side. Does she side with the rebellion who say they support her? Or does she side with the only family she's ever known? Either way, she'll always be a monster in her own eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

That year in the Capital they call her an Ice Queen. They say the Snow Princess has grown cold and harsh like her grandfather.

Of course, no one says these things in anything but rumored whispers fueled by unease from rebellion in the districts. The rebels who have been trying to kill her grandfather over the years have now begun to worry about whether the younger Snow is just as much a danger to them as the elder. She is planning the 3rd Quarter Quell with a vengeance to be feared. They whisper that she was beaten in the last games, and now she’s cheated the cards to get a chance at destroying the precious victors from district 12.

They couldn’t be farther from the truth.

The districts seem to hate her more than they do President Snow for dragging Peeta and Prim back into the games. She has no way of telling them it isn’t her fault. This wasn’t her plan. It was all Plutarch Heavensbee who ruined her games. She was going to show the mercy of the Capitol. Her games would be the first to let all the tributes live. The districts would have rejoiced, would have loved the Capitol for sparing their children.

At least that’s what she tells herself. It plays on repeat in her head, all the maybes and could have been lies. She’s still a little girl playing at stories, it’s the only way she sleeps at night through the terror in her dreams – terrors she’s created.

There would still have been an arena battle of course. There had to be. But the tributes would be protecting mutts to kill in their places. She’d been inspired by her own mutt, Griffin. The tributes would each have a mutt, and when their pet was killed by another tribute, they would have been disqualified. Katniss thought it might actually have a chance at working if she could convince her grandfather – the key point being convincing him. There would be a random draw to see who got which mutt. It wouldn’t have been actually random of course, she had her pairings all picked out.

The victor would be a girl from 1 with a lioness styled mutt. The Capitol would be consumed with a lion craze and forget all about the Mockingjay symbols that haunted her from the 74th Hunger Games.

Then Heavensbee had to beat her to the punch.

Katniss was going to have him beheaded. In fact, she was going to do it herself. Every time he idled up to her making suggestions on how she should run _her_ games, Katniss thought about killing him then and there. It wouldn’t matter, no one would care, but she kept her temper in check. She needed a fall guy to blame when this all crashed and burned.

She drank heavily throughout the reaping. Twenty years old, the most powerful woman in all of Panem, and she can do nothing to stop this. She downed an entire glass of whiskey that burned her throat when she watched 12. Peeta volunteered to take Haymitch’s place – of course the idiot did. Of course he did, why the hell did he have to be so stupid? Peeta glared into the cameras as if he thought the whole of the Capitol would burst to flames if he tried hard enough. She scoffed at him, pouring another glass of whiskey, spilling liquids over the sides of the cup in her hazy state.

The three finger salute rose. It’d become a symbol of the rebellion, starting in the last reaping and peaking when Prim saluted district 11 for their sacrifice after Rue’s death – starting a riot that began the rebellion.

Three finger salutes and Mockingjay pins and nightlock berries, how can three little things have brought her downfall?

The televised version cut off the salute. No need to add fuel to the flames. Katniss figures 12 will soon join the rioting. She can hardly believe they get some of the other districts under control long enough to reap their victors without any incidents. It was a narrow escape in 8 when they reaped a mother whose children clung to her crying. There was rioting before the train even departed an hour later.

Katniss can feel her grandfather growing angrier with her, more impatient.

It’s not her fault, she tells him. It’s Heavensbee that keeps telling you things that lead to these problems. It’s Heavensbee who didn’t stop the order to change the rules in time last games. Katniss can vividly recall even drunk the moment she realized he was a traitor when he danced with little Prim at the end of the victory tour. Oh she knew, she knew without a doubt, she just didn’t know the plan. It was like staring at a chess board, but she can’t see where the opponent’s pieces are or even what they are.

She remembers standing on the balcony with her grandfather as he congratulated the victors at the end of the tour. The crowds turned to watch the fireworks while Peeta and Prim looked back at the balcony to meet her gaze. She’d shook her head subtly. No, they hadn’t been able to convince her grandfather or the districts or anyone. The rebellion continued, and it was their fault for defying the Capitol. Katniss was furious with her two victors. She was furious with Heavensbee. Couldn’t the rebels have just waited a few more years? Her grandfather had to die eventually. And when he did she would take over, and there would be no one to punish or kill her for making things right.

He was getting sicker already. She could tell, fussing and worrying over him when he wasn’t lashing out at her.

Damn them all. She didn’t need to be their savior. She wasn’t a district dweller. Katniss Snow was a Capitol citizen, granddaughter of the President. She had her kingdom, and she would rule it with or without the districts’ support. As long as she could keep her kingdom in one piece until her day came.

She lounges watching the tributes in the new training center. It’s a work of art, and at least some of the tributes look like they belong. Her victors are all there except for Chance and Annie. When the old woman had volunteered to go for Annie Katniss had been barely able to withhold her relief.

She stares at the tributes like a queen on her throne, passing judgement over them all. She wears outfits like armor now, reds and blacks and golds. Let the world call her an ice queen, she will always be the fire of her family and the outfits Cinna designs for her reflect that.

They won’t win this time. She is the gamemaker, the creator of this story. She’ll manipulate every thrice damned moment of this Quarter Quell until the result is exactly how she wants. No surprises, no unexpected victors, no Heavensbee interference.

“Seeing any you like?” Speaking of Heavensbee.

“I’d like to see you dead,” Katniss replies, turning to glare at Plutarch before looking back to where Prim kneels beside Beetee and Wiress who motion to the force field and draw Prim’s attention to it. “What do you want Heavensbee?”

“There’s no need for such violence,” He says, taking a seat beside her. “We’re on the same side.”

“Are we now?” She looks to him with disbelief and conceals her surprise at his sure expression.

“I most certainly think we are.” He sounds confident, he looks confident, and Katniss is confident he’s a rebel. That doesn’t add up for her. They can’t be on the same side. “You’re a smart young woman Miss Snow. You’ve always been perceptive, always known more than people think you do.”

Is he baiting her to reveal her knowledge of his status as a traitor? Does he want her to tell him she agrees with the rebels who want to kill her grandfather? To take down the government she wants to one day rule? Katniss’s hand twitches, she’s itching to go down to the training room tonight and shoot a few arrows in the archery station. It’s a secret little hobby of hers that she’s not even sure her grandfather knows about. She’s hid it well with overlapped video feeds, bribes and threats. But of course, he probably knows. It’s foolish to think her grandfather is uninformed of anything that goes on here.

“That’s true. You’d be surprised the things I know about you.”

It’s meant to sound threatening but he laughs it off. “Oh, I don’t think surprised is the right word. Satisfied, maybe, seeing as I’m still around despite all my skeletons and dirty secrets.”

“You’re a crafty man. I’m sure you could weasel your way out of most situations.”

“I have all sorts of escape plans for getting out of bad situations. I’m sure you don’t want to hear the tales of my partners though. You always seem so… innocent despite all else.”

Katniss can only stare at Prim whose moved on to making fish hooks with Mags. The old lady dotes on the little girl, patting her head and offering kind smiles.

“I’m hardly innocent,” Katniss doesn’t mean to whisper it but the words come out that way anyways.

“You’d be surprised how many people think otherwise. You’ve got a lot of admirers, and a whole lot of supporters. Everyone thinks you’ll be President after your grandfather.”

She turns her head to him slowly, studying his smug face. “And what do you think?”

“I think you could get there… with the right friends.” He’s always so smug, like he’s already won the war.

He wants her to join the rebellion. That much is clear.

Katniss, however tempted she may be, will never agree. She’s too full of fear and too lacking in trust. All she can imagine of the end to this tale is her being executed beside her grandfather after helping the rebels to bring her own demise. They’ll lie to her, manipulate her, pull all the resources they can from her and then they’ll kill her. It’s what her grandfather would do. It’s what she’s learning to do.

“What will it matter if the rebellion isn’t snuffed out before it can kill my grandfather and me and put someone else in our place?” They’ll burn her alive she bets, turn her flame colored clothes into true flames to eat her alive on live broadcast like she’s done for dozens of tributes eaten alive by mutts.

“That won’t happen.” He assures. “No one’s going to kill you, the darling Princess of Panem. They might try to kill President Snow, but how much chance do you really think they have of succeeding. They’d need district thirteen and all its weapons. Everyone knows that’s not possible. The rebellion doesn’t stand a chance.”

It’s a lie laced with truth. Katniss is left reeling. District thirteen. District thirteen. District thirteen. The dead district. District thirteen.

They made weapons. They made weapons that could destroy all of Panem, or just the Capitol.

Katniss can’t look away from Heavensbee, can’t decide if she should simply have him killed now and end this all before it begins. She decides quickly not to, and knows just as fast that she’ll regret it later.

“Are you alright? Still with us here?” He waves a hand in front of her face once, trying to draw her out of her shocked state.

Katniss doesn’t reply. She turns back to the tributes and finds several of them watching her and Plutarch’s conversation from the corners of their eyes, heads tilted just so to appear still focused on their tasks. Swallowing down her emotion Katniss conceals it all behind what she hopes is a blank mask to hide her fear.

She has the gut wrenching realization that it’s unlikely the rebellion will fail. Not unless someone stops them.

“What do you want from me Plutarch?”

“I just want to be friends. One day you’ll be President and need someone to promote to Head Gamemaker after all.” She refuses to look at him again, but she can practically hear the upturn of his smile as he plays for the cameras. Always so smug. What will it take to knock that smug grin straight off his face?

She could always have his face removed. Now that’s an idea to save for later, Katniss thinks.

“Oh is that all? Consider the job yours if I’m ever in charge, now go away.” She flicks her hand at him, meaning to wave him off like the annoying insect he is.

He shakes his head, not done poking and prodding at her yet. “You’ve got a bit of bruise showing under your makeup.”

“I fell.”

“You fall a lot?”

“No,” She snaps back at him, fighting to control her temper. She grabs a drink from a passing Avox and downs half of it. The alcohol burns its way down her throat as it always does and she takes another large gulp to follow the first. She’s getting a lot better at drinking. Even the strong stuff goes down much easier these days. People are starting to whisper about it behind her back.

“Drink like that and you will.”

She slams the cup down so hard the glass cracks. “I don’t remember asking for your opinion!”

Now she’s done it, she’s yelled and drawn the attention of the other gamemakers.

Plutarch waves dismissively to them with a friendly smile Katniss wants to slap off his face. “Just arguing about the level of difficulty in some of the stations.”

Oh for the love of… “Really?” She demands loudly- too loud, too loud. “Which stations do you just now want to call unsatisfactory?” She helped create most of the concept designs and ideas for the hologram stations. This is her work, her project, her well-being depends on everything being perfect. “After we’ve already got the tributes here practicing in them? Would you also like to discuss the unsatisfactory carriages for the parade tomorrow so we at least have time to fix them?”

He has the nerve to look surprised by her angry outburst. “I wasn’t calling them unsatisfactory. Just difficult. That’s not a bad thing.”

“They have different levels of difficulty!” She’s screaming at them. She’s actually lost her temper and now Katniss is screaming at him. Her grandfather is going to kill her – well maim more likely than kill. “Do you really think you can waltz in here acting like you own the place and expect people to believe anything that you say? You go around spilling so many damn lies I wonder if anything comes out of your mouth that’s not bent on manipulating someone! Stop trying to change things! That’s how people get hurt or worse – DEAD!”

“I just think they’re too hard to learn anything from is all.” He replies in a voice still so calm and collected she’s seconds away from throwing something at him. She stalks away from him, grabbing a new glass that isn’t cracked from an avox.

Breathe in, breathe out, calm down Katniss. She repeats it over and over in her head. She repeats all the things she knows about herself. _I am Katniss Snow. I am twenty years old, the most powerful woman in Panem, the granddaughter of President Snow. I am in control._

“Are you okay?”

Katniss turns and throws the glass at his head. Plutarch ducks, the glass shattering on the force field and sending shards of glass spraying in all directions. Gamemakers and Avoxes duck for dover, raise their arms to shield themselves, Plutarch hits the ground. Katniss stands there and takes it, eyes closed against the onslaught of glass to protect them. Shards of glass bury in her skin where her clothes aren’t thick enough to stop them. They’re tiny for the most part, little needles that stick to her skin. They all stare at her, at the tiny pricks of red that well in places where large enough shards have sunk low enough to draw blood.

“I’m fine.” Katniss holds her head high, stares him down with as much fury in her gaze as she can muster while her nerves start to register all the places she’s in pain. “Thank you for asking. If you’ll excuse me,” She turns on heel, ignoring the light crunch her heels make every few steps. She needs to go to the infirmary, get the glass removed from her skin and the wounds healed. It’s a good excuse to get the bruises fixed anyways. Katniss will deal with her grandfather afterwards, no doubt he’ll have something to say about her outburst.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you BlueRaccoon and Jarichhi for your comments inspiring me to dig this back up and write a little more.

There’s a healer already waiting as she leaves. Sitting on a bed in the infirmary is a painstakingly long wait. They pick out the glass shards, spread creams over her wounds. It takes less than half an hour, and when they hold up the mirror for her, Katniss’ face is already smooth and perfect once more. There’s not a single blemish on her skin.

But the rage beneath hasn’t died down yet. It’s still burning her up. It feels like a fever that will not break. Katniss pushes past the doctors back to the training rooms, shaking off the last glass shards still stuck to her clothes as she walks. 

She signals to an Avox who runs off to interfere with the videos. The training center floors are about to have a lapse in video monitoring due to an overuse of power to keep the force field running. The training room door can barely open fast enough as Katniss slips inside. Everyone stops what they’re doing, watching her storm through the room to the archery station.

She’ll show Plutarch Heavensbee that she’s not some weak little girl he can manipulate. She’s a fighter, a survivor, a killer like anyone else in the room and with a much higher body count. The rebels can’t have her, and they will never control her.

Not like her grandfather can.

Grabbing the right sized bow she throws a quiver of arrows across her shoulders, securing it tight as the reinforced glass doors open. The program is set on low difficulty, so she changes it to the highest setting. The hologram lights spin wildly, keeping her on full alert until the first attacker comes. 

Then she’s shooting. One in front, then behind, all with weapons and it will only take a single hit for her to lose the simulation. She ducks, turns, fires straight and up and aims at each opponent in the scant seconds available between life and death.

It lasts a minute or two at best, and she’s sweating already by the end. Katniss can hear her heartbeat pounding and feel the thrill that comes from the surviving pumping through her veins. She counted eight holograms falling to her arrows.

The air fills with applause. Katniss spins to the door, panicking at the sight of the tributes standing on the other side watching. She freezes like a rabbit caught in the path of a wolf, unsure of how to proceed – heart beating frantically in her chest. Plutarch is standing there as well, hands tucked in his pocket and a satisfied smirk on his face. She’s done exactly what he wanted. Foolish little queen.

That makes up Katniss’s mind. She takes off the quiver as she walks back out, thrusting both quiver and bow into his chest as he rushes to grab them before they fall. Katniss leans in close, scowling at him as she growls out, “We are not on the same side.”

His smirk falls. Katniss turns to go only to find little Primrose standing in her way. “That was amazing! Where did you learn to shoot like that?” She’s walking backwards as Katniss tries to walk forwards, keeping in the elder girl’s path as Katniss sighs.

“My father was a hunter.”

“Really?” This excites the girl to no end. “My father is a hunter too! I mean – well,” She obviously knows that hunting is illegal but not that Katniss is perfectly aware of Prim’s father hunting illegally in district 12. “I thought your father would be a politician or something.”

Katniss nearly trips on her own feet and she does trip over her own words. “I… well… um…” She doesn’t have an answer to that. She doesn’t even know where the original statement came from. “I guess he was? I don’t remember…”

Prim frowns at that. “But how can you remember he was a hunter then?”

“I don’t know, I just know.” Katniss mutters.

“What about your mother?”

A healer, Katniss wants to say, but she knows that’s not right. Instead she shrugs. “This isn’t appropriate conversation.”

“It’s not appropriate for you to be down here either.”

Katniss actually stops and looks down at the girl. “And who’s to say that? I’m Head Gamemaker and the President’s granddaughter. I can do whatever I want.”

“Even stop the games?”

She knows the other tributes have followed them out of the archery station and started to split off whilst hovering close enough to hear, but now they all go silent. Who can feign ignorance when she’s holding their lives in her hands?

Katniss scowls for a moment, before shaking her head. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

Why does she have to ask so many questions? “Because these aren’t my games.” Wait no – she’s not supposed to say that.

Prim doesn’t let it go though. “But you designed it and you control it.”  
“Actually it was Plutarch who came up with the idea for this Quarter Quell. I just improved the arena and came up with all the things that will kill you.” She means it to scare the girl off, but for some reason the little bird won’t fly away.

“What was your idea?”

The kid is clever. Katniss has to give her that. “What makes you think I had a different idea?”

“Because you obviously hate Mister Heavensbee’s idea.” Prim smiles sweetly, all puppy dog eyes and pig tail braids. She looks so much younger than her age like that, and Katniss would bet the capitol that Prim’s stylists and mentor do that on purpose. Everything about Prim says she’s too young and innocent to be brutally slaughtered for a game.

Katniss gritted her teeth for a moment, glancing around for Plutarch who is leaning against the side of the entrance hall just waiting to see what she says. He’s never even heard her idea before. She figures she’ll tell it just to spite him, the rebel sending people to die when lives could have been spared.

Looking down at Prim Katniss can’t decide whether to smile or grimace at the sweet face. She drops her voice low, stooping a bit to come closer to eye level.

“My design was for the first games where no tributes would have to die… a show of mercy from the Capitol.” Katniss reaches into one of the inner pockets of her blazer for her Holo pad. It’s already unlocked, so she brings up the secure file containing the 75th Hunger Games original designs and inputs the two further passwords required as she keeps talking. “Of course, there would have to be death. It was inspired by my mutt actually, the idea that each tribute would work together with a mutt and once it died or was killed then the tribute would be disqualified.

“I had it all planned out, all my mutts, all my tributes, right down to my victor and arena changes – though I can’t show you that part obviously since the structural design is obviously the same. I can show you these.” Katniss nearly winces at the slipped admission of her chosen victor, but Prim doesn’t seem to notice.

She spins the Holo pad around to show Prim, watching as delight springs onto the girl’s face that actually makes Katniss smile. “They’re so pretty!” 

Katniss has never had a problem with praise before, but Prim’s continued comments as she scrolls through the mutts – the beautiful ones and the deadlier looking – make her uncomfortable. She shouldn’t be interacting with the girl at all, but she can’t help herself.

A little voice of fear echoes in her mind, warning that she’s exposing her throat to be cut, softens her heart just in time for a deadly blow. There is no room for this kind of weakness in the capitol. She cannot afford this kindness.

“What’s your mutt like?”

Katniss almost doesn’t answer, but the cameras are off and for once she wants to feel human instead of like a monster. She takes back the Holo pad, bringing up her saved photos and scrolling through to a picture of Griffin. “She’s a mix between cat and bird. Her name is Griffin.”

Prim’s eyes are wide as saucers. “She’s so cute! And tiny!” 

Katniss grins, “Part of the bird portion.”

“And she has wings,” Prim looks like a child in a candy store for the first time. “Can she fly?”

“No,” Katniss replies a bit sadly, taking the Holo pad back and tucking it away. “She can’t fly.”

“I miss my cat. His name is Buttercup, he’s yellow and really fat and furry.”

She knows, she’s seen the cat before on video feed. It’s an ugly little thing. Katniss would have adored to have it growing up. As it is she suspects had she grown up with any cat not part bird they wouldn’t have gotten along in the slightest. She always got along better with birds than cats.

“Hmm, well,” Katniss fidgets. There’s a clapping sound from the doorway, an Avox warning her that the cameras are soon to be back on. “Back to the natural order then.” She turns without another word to Prim, glancing at Heavensbee. “Better get out Plutarch, the clapping is the warning bell.”

His confusion is only momentary as he hurries to catch up and slip out of the room. “You had the cameras off?”

“You think I’d do anything I did in there if I thought the cameras were on?”

He’s contemplative for a moment. “It’s impressive. I didn’t think you could do things like that.”

“Careful Heavensbee, you’re negating all those pretty compliments from earlier.” She cuts away, done observing for today. Training is almost done for the night anyways and she needs to do damage control.


	3. Chapter 3

The interviews kick off with hers as the Head Gamemaker. Still, there’s plenty of time left before the event starts, and Katniss ducks out of her dressing room once the all clear is given. She stops and knocks at district 12’s dressing room waiting until one of the prep team members comes to open the door.

“Miss Snow! How may we help you?” The look on their colorful face is pure panic and confusion, looking about behind her for sign of guards come to drag them away.

“May I come in?” Katniss smiles as the prep member jumps aside nodding frantically. She steps in; searching out Prim among the people in the sitting area and two branched off dressing areas. Abernathy is lounged on a sofa staring at the pre-interview shows flickering across the screen. He jumps when he spots her, looking half confused and half afraid – her favorite combination to inspire these days. “Calm down Abernathy, the cameras are off for the moment. No one is watching.”

“So I can kill you and blame it on the prep team?” It’s remarkable he isn’t drinking, he seems completely sober despite the tremendous strain she knows he must be under.

Katniss raises a brow but says nothing. She’s almost amused.

“Katniss! What are you doing here?” Prim comes running towards her from one of the dressing areas, makeup and hair done but yet to be put into her outfit for the night. She stops a few feet away as Peeta comes to linger in the entry way to his dressing area, staring at them.

Effie Trinket goes into a flurry, asking if she needs “anything at all”. The woman circles around Katniss like a creature from one of her costumes, arms waving silent commands the prep team doesn’t seem to understand.

“I’m fine Miss Trinket, thank you.” Katniss assures, giving a small nod to Cinna in the other room. He nods in return. She likes the stylist even though she’s fairly sure he is also a rebel. She seems to be surrounded by them these days anyways. “I was just remembering what Prim said the other day and thought I’d bring this by for a quick moment.”

She’s got a purse on her shoulder and flips the latch before lowering it to the floor. The edges drop from around its contents, the tiny winged cat mutt shaking off her feathers and giving a meow of distaste from being in the bag for so long. Prim drops to her knees, awing over the tiny creature as she extends her hands to it in offering of friendship.

Griffin sniffs the girl’s hands for only a moment, but can already tell a cat lover when she sees one. The bird cat is purring in the younger girl’s arm in seconds.

Katniss frowns at the creature. “That is a trained attack cat. She should at least be a little wary before throwing herself into your arms.”

Prim giggles, raising her face away from a rough cat tongue trying to lick her face. “She’s so pretty! This is your pet?”

“Yes, I’ve had her since I was eight.”

“I must have a pretty horrible death in store if you’re being this kind to me.” Prim’s smile is kind, but her eyes are knowingly sad even as she takes comfort in the mutt.

Katniss hopes the guilt doesn’t show as clearly as she feels it inside reflected on her face.

Prim nods, her smile only wavering a little bit. “I figured.” She scratches Griffin’s head and earns a purr so loud the cat is nearly vibrating visibly. “I appreciate it though.”

The others are silent staring on. Katniss turns a glare on the prep team members who are all gawking at her. “You say a word of this to anyone and you’ll all be executed publicly by firing squad.”

They all flee out of sight as Prim narrows her eyes at Katniss. “No, you won’t.”

“Of course I will. I can do anything.”

“Except stop the games.” Oh great, they were back to that. “So you can stop cameras, design games where no one dies, and have people publicly executed, but not this?”

Katniss fidgets, checks the time on a nearby clock. She still has time before her people run out of flickering power excuses and footage to overlap to cover this up. “Technically no one has to die by each other’s hands. Since I couldn’t design a game where no one dies I designed a game where no one has to kill each other to die. The arena itself has the capability to kill all tributes with enough blood and gore to satisfy the Capitol’s tastes.” Her eyes flicker between the contestants. “Not that you’re supposed to know that, of course.”

Her grandfather will kill her if he finds out what she’s doing – showing sympathy to sacrifices. She’s acting like a rebel, feels like one, and the idea makes her heart flutter a little faster. Katniss can’t tell if its anxiety or excitement, but she’s leaning towards the former. She can see no future for herself in a rebel victory – can’t imagine committing fully to betraying her family.

“That’s just an extended execution then.” Prim’s words pull Katniss back from her thoughts.

“You’re a dog with a bone, you know that?” Katniss accused, annoyed that no one can ever just be happy with what little she’s actually able to do to change anything these days. Can no one see how hard she’s trying to bring compromise – to gentle smother two fires quickly growing out of control.

“I get it from my father.” Prim shrugs, smiling down at Griffin. “The wings look like Mockingjay wings.”

“I wanted to name her Mockingjay, my grandfather refused to allow it.”

“Did you choose her wings?” Katniss nodded. “Why?”

She shrugged, “I like Mockingjays. They’re good singing partners.”

Prim grinned with a bright smile, “My Dad sings with Mockingjays. He has this one tune he uses all the time. I can never get it right, but the Mockingjays love it and they sing it for days.” Katniss can’t help her own smile, a tune coming to mind that she’s whistling before she realizes what she’s doing. Prim’s head snaps up. “Yeah! That’s it! How’d you know it?”

Katniss freezes. She doesn’t know where that came from. “Lucky guess?”

The girl frowns. “Have you heard it before?”

“Not a clue.” She snaps her fingers twice, Griffin retreating from Prim’s arms back to the bag. “Time’s running out, you should get dressed.” Effie’s there pulling the girl away before Prim can protest. She doesn’t realize Katniss is giving an order rather than a suggestion but Trinket does.

Abernathy and Mellark are watching her. She glares at the elder victor. “What?” She snaps at him.

“What’s your ploy here?” He questions with a troubled expression. “Why mess with the girl? Do you get a kick out of it?”

She scowls at him, picking up the bag and throwing the latch closed. She’s got about three minutes left. She doesn’t need all of them this time. “I’m not completely heartless you know. Even monsters don’t always enjoy being monsters.”

Katniss spares a glance at Mellark, thankful his face is blank rather than judgingly angry like Abernathy’s. The door closing behind her is a relieving sound.

 

* * *

 

 

Caesar and Katniss stand in front of the raised platforms where the victor tributes will be positioned on display rather than go on and right back off after their interviews. She pities the ones who will have to stand the entire time.

“Now tell me Katniss, we’re good friends right?”

“Of course, Caesar,” She replies happily, grinning along with the play they put on.

“And you know you can tell me anything?” She nods. “Just between you and me.” She grins and nods with a wink to the audience. “So, friend to friend, what is the arena like this year?”

“Well Caesar since it’s just you and me,” they both look pointedly to the audience who laugh and urge her to reveal all her secrets. “I can tell you just a little I think. You have to understand, this arena has been in the making longer than I’ve been a gamemaker. It’s a Quarter Quell arena, so everything is more complicated in design. It’s beautiful and dangerous all at the same time. But it’s also one of the smallest arenas we’ve ever had.”

“Oh! Well I hope that doesn’t make things too squished in!” Caesar turns to the audience. “Am I right? We want to see action! Grand chases! Epic battles!”

She nods along to their cheers, ever smiling and regal. On this stage Katniss feels like a Queen, balancing on the edge of glory and execution. “Oh don’t you worry Caesar, there will plenty of that.”

He nods, turning suddenly very serious. “Now Katniss, as everyone in Panem knows, you have been one of the most creative Head Gamemakers we’ve ever had. Your mutts are always a fabulous treat to behold. Right? Am I right?” The cheers are near deafening. “What do you have in store for us this year? We promise not to tell the tributes!”

She laughs and leans in close like she’s about to tell him a secret. “Can I tell you a secret Caesar?” He nods enthusiastically and makes a grand shushing motion to the audience who all quiet down with playful titters. “When I first got my hands on the plans for this Quarter Quell the mutts were… well they were very…” Everyone is on the edge of their seats, “unimpressive… but I’ve fixed all that. The dangers in this arena are ones you’ve never, ever seen before – in any other arena. It’s going to catch everyone by surprise!”

The audience loves this. They can’t wait to see what Katniss and her fellow gamemakers have created, but they’ll give all the credit where it’s due. Katniss thinks of the beast in section 7, the fog in section 3, the blood rain and monkeys and tidal waves. She’s created trees with vines that reach out to strangle in section 6. The ground becomes quicksand in section 8 that’s only a few feet deep so they’ll be trapped from the waist down and if they don’t make it out the ground will solidify around them trapping them in the earth. Everything in the arena is designed to kill if she wishes it to down to the dirt and up to the sky.

She’s not managed to hide any of this from Heavensbee, but then again she hadn’t really tried to. Katniss listens to the cheers with a smile plastered on her face that freezes like it does every time she thinks about someone actually falling into those traps. They could die so quickly, and her job is to make it slow.

“Well we’re all certainly glad to hear that.” Caesar is a pro at his job. She can’t imagine anyone else filling his spot. Will he die in the rebellion? Or will they keep him around because he has the whole Capitol eating out of his hands. The thought nearly brings her to tears. She’s been having interviews with Caesar for as long as she can remember, she used to dance with him at parties standing on his toes and marveling at his chosen color for the year. “Oh my dear, is everything alright?”

Oh no, oh no oh no oh no. “Of course Caesar, I’m just being nostalgic. I’ve only been a gamemaker for a few years and I’m already going to be saying goodbye to some of my victors.”

He’s sympathetic, the whole crowd is. They empathize with her; they love their victors too – for different reasons mostly. “We do know you love your victors. You work so hard to make them the best they can be. And now you get to have one shine brighter than all the rest! Surely that’s a positive?”

“Oh yes Caesar, I can’t wait to see how they fair this year. I have high hopes for my victors, though I promise I will be perfectly fair to all tributes. No one is getting off easy.” She turns to the crowd to rally them again, “This is the hardest year ever – a challenge fit for our victors!”

The energy is pumped back up with that, her slip covered for now. Katniss has no doubt she’ll be hearing about it later from her grandfather. The memory of him slapping her comes to her mind and other more recent punishments are even fresher memories. She’ll pay for this, and that fear hits her so hard that her hands almost start trembling. She knows the tremors will hit full force the moment she steps off stage.

“Anyone you think might win?” He leans in close once more. “Remember, you can tell me.”

“Well, sadly, knowing the arena and the skill of some victors, I know that there are a few with some advantages over the others. But as you know from my past games, there are always things you’ll never see coming. This arena will test the tributes in ways they never have been, and it will take things they have experienced before and push those things to the extreme.”

“This sounds like it could be the best Quarter Quell yet!”

“Well there are only two others to compare it to, and I have to admit that the 50th Quarter Quell is one of my favorite games to date. That force field trick came out of nowhere. You never see that kind of thing coming.” She would probably pay for that hint too if anyone caught wind of it.

“Oh, I just love surprises! Don’t you all just love surprises?” The crowd is cheering again and Katniss’s interview is nearly done. She just has to last a little longer.

“So Katniss, I know it’s all about the games, but do you ever get a chance to sit back, relax, maybe go out with a nice boy and have some fun?” That really gets the crowd’s attention.

Katniss not so playfully glares at Caesar as she forces a nervous smile. “Caesar, how could I ever have time for dating when I’m working so hard on making these games as perfect as possible?”

“Oh come on now, twenty years old, one of the most beautiful women in the Capitol, let alone most powerful, there must be someone you’ve got your eye on…”

She’s faltering. Katniss is caught off guard by this line of questioning. They were supposed to talk about the games; these questions hadn’t been in the prep list. It has to be a test, but she doesn’t know how to pass. Is this her grandfather’s doing? Does he want her to woo the districts into distraction with some romance plot? As if that would work! The districts hate her! They’d revel to see her unhappy rather than the opposite.

“I… well…”

Caesar is beside himself. “Oh look! She’s blushing! Tell us, tell us!”

“I assure you, Caesar. The only man of great importance in my life is my grandfather, President Snow. I care so deeply about the importance of family as you know.”

He’s pouting and the crowd isn’t exactly happy at the moment. Katniss is losing them. “Katniss, I don’t think we’ve ever seen you with a boy? Have we folks?”

The whole crowd agrees with him. Katniss is saintly pure in the eyes of the Capitol. She’s had dates to events, but nothing more and nothing bordering on serious in the slightest. “I… well okay Caesar…”

She gives another nervous smile, lets them all think she’s giving in to telling them a secret romance when she’s coming up with it all on the spot. Caesar is nearly bouncing with excitement. “I knew it! I _knew_ it!”

“There is a boy, but I don’t think he likes me at all…” The crowd oos and awes over this. “I think once the Quell is over and things have settled I’ll have to make it my goal to win him over.”

“A Quarter Quell _and_ a romance to follow, what more could we ask for folks?” They’re cheering once more, ever excited to dive into her personal life. Caesar winks at her. “I bet he’ll be super impressed with all the things you’ve deigned for this Hunger Games!”

“Caesar, you’ve just been leading me along so I’ll tell you all the arena secrets!”

“Oh you’ve caught me, you’ve caught me! But really, I hope that you get this secret boy of yours and one day soon we’ll be hearing wedding bells throughout the Capitol.”

Katniss pales on live broadcast and has to catch herself on Caesar, pretending to grip his arm as she’s laughing at their playful banter rather than about to fall clear over. Her grandfather has sent his message loud and clear where she can’t ignore it and she’s least expected it. He wants her to marry – and soon.

“I promise Caesar, once the games are over I’ll bring him to you and you can interrogate – I mean interview – him all you like.” She has to remember to breathe, in and out. Don’t pass out on stage. The world is watching her fight a panic attack on a live broadcast – the world and her grandfather.

Her game maker mind can only imagine bloodshed.

“Well, I think we’ve embarrassed our poor Katniss enough haven’t we?” Laughter, cheers, she doesn’t hear any of it as the realization of her predicament sinks in completely. It’s no worse than what she condemns tributes and victors to, life sentences. Caesar and her exchanging parting words, and Katniss walks off stage reminding herself not to take off running.

The first tributes are lined up, waiting to go. She passes those from the first four, stopping when a hand brushes her arm. Turning she finds the old woman, Mags, reaching out to her. Katniss tilts her head questioningly, urging her hands to stop shaking. Mags picks up one of her hands and pats it. She’s such a kind woman that even the Head Gamemaker doesn’t escape her golden heart. Katniss’s eyes fill with tears and she gives a small smile that feels painful even to her.

How is she supposed to kill this woman? How could she kill Farro? Thresh? Rue? Katniss squeezes Mags hand and pulls away gently, walking faster so no one can see it when she starts crying. She gets to her dressing room and starts sobbing. The Avoxes scramble in all directions, unsure of what they’re supposed to do in this moment.

She’s never cried in front of anyone, ever. Katniss can’t even remember the last time she cried.

The interviews are being broadcast in her dressing room. The tributes cry, they plead unfairness, they give logic and reason and anger and fury. The victors are doing all they can to end the games before they even begin. Caesar is panicking, that much is clear to Katniss. He has no idea how to get control back. This won’t crush the rebellion. It will stir it to new levels of unrest. If victors aren’t safe, then who is? Surely her grandfather sees this; surely he will stop the games!

Little Primrose is the youngest victor, only thirteen as she takes the stage. The whole audience is in tears. They’re one step away from demanding the games be canceled. Prim is in a dress that almost looks like a wedding gown and Katniss starts crying again when Prim tells them it is one.

“I’ll never get a wedding, or the chance to fall in love, or get my first kiss, nor have children of my own. I don’t even get to grow up at all. So my stylist Cinna thought I should get to wear a dress as pretty as I might have gotten to wear one day if I hadn’t been reaped again.”

Caesar is actually speechless for a moment. His mouth opens and closes a few times, searching for the words to comfort both Prim and the weeping audience. “I’m so very sorry, but it is a lovely dress.”

“It gets better,” Prim assures him. “Want to see?”

She spins and the dress dissolves in colorful smoke until all that is left is a beautiful bird. “It’s a Mockingjay,” Prim tells them. “My father gave me my token before the last games, the Mockingjay pin… he said my sister was a Mockingjay, a little bird who was taken from their nest. He loved Mockingjays and said they mourned with him when she was gone because he couldn’t sing anymore. He told me that as long as I kept the pin with me I would be safe from harm because she would protect me.”

The time is up and Caesar has to wait until the crowd eases up from their sobs for Peeta to be sent in. Then Peeta drops his bomb.

Caesar questions him on his sweetheart from the last games. Peeta tells Caesar that the girl definitely knows he exists now, he even got to dance with her, but they’re still worlds apart. They can never be together. Anything between them will always be forbidden, even if he could convince her to fall in love with him. An impossibility, he says, because she is a princess in a castle and he is a mere baker’s boy from the lowest district.

Katniss knows what he’s doing immediately. She just can’t believe he’s using her in his strategy.

“A Princess in a castle?” Caesar asks incredulously. “I can only think of one of those.” He laughs but the audience is still too struck from Prim’s interview to laugh at the moment. They’re all on the edge of their seats, murmuring teary eyed to each other. Are they all thinking the same thing, they wonder.

“So can I,” Peeta agrees. “So you can probably see why I have a problem. You see, the men in my family are pretty strong believers in love at first sight, so I guess I’m as doomed as every other man that looks upon her really.”

Oh he’s not, but he is. She wants to rip him to shreds.

“We’re thinking about the same person here right?” Caesar looks genuinely worried.

“Katniss Snow? Yes, I believe we are.”

It’s not easy to forget how much the Capitol adores Peeta. They see him exactly as Katniss wanted them to, a knight in shining armor. Now he’s claiming love for their beloved princess, and Katniss has dug her own grave. She sits with her jaw hanging to the floor, hoping that the crowd won’t respond positively.

But oh how they love it.

It’s a forbidden romance, star-crossed lovers, a fairy tale. It’s the exact kind of story the Capitol craves, devours anytime they find one of its like. The crowd goes absolutely wild. And then the victors are all lined up in perfect view, and they raise their clasped hands. The screen goes dark.

They’re all in so much trouble.


End file.
